


will you still love me the same?

by Setkia



Series: Pinky Swear [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Worship, Established Relationship, First Time, Insecure Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Loves Oikawa Very Much, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, They're 35
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 17:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13463436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: “D-don’t touch me.” Tears are streaming down his face. His fingers are trembling as he’s trying to button up his shirt. “D-don’t look at me!” It sounds like a plea.In all the time Hajime has known Oikawa Tōru, he has never heard him beg.And then Hajime sees it in his eyes.It’s not that Tōru doesn’t love him, he doesn’t hate Hajime.He hates himself.





	will you still love me the same?

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to Pinky Promise and Pinky Swear. It takes place pretty soon after the other two stories. I feel Oikawa is the type of person to worry about his appearance, because he has trouble separating his self-worth from physical and tangible things. Title comes from Thinking Out Loud. I use the term “aishiteru”, which translates to “I love you”, in an archaic fashion that’s rarely used anymore. It carries more weight than “daisuki”. I don’t own Haikyūu!!.

Hajime can’t remember a time he’s smiled so much. 

He struggles with the lock, but then the apartment door opens and they tumble inside and Tōru has never looked more beautiful.

He can’t wait. He presses him against the door. He’s grinning and it’s interfering with the kiss, but he doesn’t care because there’s no need to rush, they have all the time in the world now because Tōru is _his_ and he is Tōru’s, and he’s _allowed to say that._ He’s able to call this idiot with the unhealthy alien obsession, who pushes himself too hard, who doesn’t know when to quit, whose broken his heart a thousand times over, this heartbreaker and saviour _his_. 

Hajime’s fingers play with the hem of Tōru’s shirt, his soon-to-be husband’s (he can say that, he still can’t believe this is really happening) and he’s anxious and nervous and it’s almost as if he’s never done this before because he _hasn’t_ , not with Tōru and nothing’s really happened until Tōru’s been a part of it.

He breathes his first name and he’s acting like he’s twenty-three again, because he’s been waiting years and years to be able to say it, say it to him without worrying about giving anything away.

He nudges his neck, kissing him softly, feeling Tōru’s expert, setter fingers in his hair, eliciting a sigh of contentment to escape his lips. It’s like he’s melted inside after so much longing. He lets his fingers go underneath the shoulder blades of Tōru’s jacket, pushing it off slowly and it falls to the ground without so much as a sound. 

“ _Aishiteru_ ,” he whispers.

Something’s wrong.

Tōru’s trembling. 

Something bitter makes its way into his mouth. Tastes like salt. 

He’s crying.

Hajime pulls away. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect,” says Tōru and yet there’s something not right. He can feel it. 

Tōru has never been able to lie to him.

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing, Iwa-chan.” 

It stings.

After so long, Hajime has been looking forward to hearing his first name tumble from Tōru’s lips, a pleasure he’s only got a faint memory of, something he wants so badly he can taste it. But he’s not going to press, perhaps Tōru hasn’t been waiting as long as he has. He’s okay with that. It doesn’t matter whether or not Tōru loves him as much as he loves him; all that’s important is that _Tōru loves him._

Hajime threads their fingers together. Tōru turns his eyes away. He’s blushing. It’s never been more adorable. 

Hajime gently guides Tōru up the stairs to the bedroom and the former captain follows him without a word. 

Once the door is open, they both fall onto the bed. It’s just a mattress at this point, but he can’t wait to hold him, because _he can_ and it’s more than he ever dreamed he’d be able to. 

The tears have dried and Tōru seems okay now. There’s still something lingering in his eyes, but Hajime knows better than to press. If he presses, Tōru will just pull away and he doesn’t know if he can handle that.

His fingers are slow and purposeful as they start to unsnap the buttons of Tōru’s shirt. The room is fairly silent and he bows his head down to kiss him again when Tōru pushes him off. He’s crying again and it’s not just emotional crying, Hajime can tell this time it’s different.

“D-don’t touch me.” Tears are streaming down his face. His fingers are trembling as he’s trying to button up his shirt. “D-don’t look at me!” It sounds like a plea.

In all the time Hajime has known Oikawa Tōru, he has never heard him beg.

And then Hajime sees it in his eyes. 

It’s not that Tōru doesn’t love him, he doesn’t hate Hajime. 

He hates _himself_.

It’s right there, the insecurity in his eyes, his self-doubt. 

It’s something that Hajime knows Tōru dealt with before in the past, when he grew taller than the other boys a bit faster, when he was praised for his genius, he felt as though he couldn’t meet expectations. It was premature of him to believe it was gone.

Hajime takes Tōru’s hand in his own gently. His voice drops to a whisper, thick with tension. “Tōru, do you think you’re ugly?”

Tōru has pulled into himself, his knees are curled up to his chest. He’s not looking at him, but the tears are still coming, he’s still crying and Hajime knows this is an inner-demon that he can’t destroy as easily as he did the blocks of the opposing team. 

“Look at me, please.”

It feels like an eternity before Tōru meets Hajime’s eyes. 

His eyes break him. It’s the same look he had when he was told he’d never play again. It’s a look Hajime never wants to see again. 

“Do you think that?”

“Iwa-chan …”

“I’m not going to get mad, just tell me. Do you think you’re ugly?” 

“I …” Tōru’s breathing is irregular. He hiccups. “How are you not disgusted?” 

“By you?” Hajime shakes his head. “I could never be disgusted.”

“But—”

“Look at me Shittykawa, have I ever lied to you?”

Tōru lets out a light chuckle at the old nickname, but it’s fake. So horribly fake. 

“You know you’re not ugly, I know you do, you’re always talking about how pretty you are, about all those girls who love you,” Hajime points out in a soft voice. He doesn’t want to outright contradict Tōru, doesn’t want to make him pull even more into himself. 

“That was then.”

"What's changed since then?"

“I was twenty-six.”

“Do you think you’re old?” 

Tōru turns away.

There’s his answer.

Hajime knows that he can’t just tell him he’s wrong. Tōru won’t believe him. Even if Hajime is his voice of reason, when it comes to Tōru’s inner fears and doubts, there is nothing Hajime can say to get him to see clearly. So instead, he decides he’ll have to try a different approach.

Hajime runs his thumb over Tōru’s lifeline slowly, letting it soothe him. “Your hands are very delicate. Even with all the calluses.” He bends down and gently kisses each of Tōru’s fingers, watching as Tōru takes in a deep breath and becomes red.

“W-what are you doing?” 

Hajime spreads out Tōru’s hands and continues talking quietly, almost as if he’s talking to himself. 

“I loved getting tosses from these hands. You know, it’s part of the reason I didn’t continue playing. I didn’t want to spike anyone else’s tosses.” He sucks on one of Tōru’s fingers and slowly draws it out of his mouth. “Your hands are magical, Tōru. Whenever you needed something done right in a game, you’d always give the ball to me. You trusted me to get the point. I don’t think you know how much that meant to me. 

“I was jealous, you know. Of when you went off to university, planning on playing volleyball again. I knew it was stupid to get jealous but I didn’t want anyone else spiking _my_ tosses. Of course you were going to play, you love volleyball, but I don’t know … it just felt like those tosses were special, only for me. To share them with someone else … they just proved to me that I was no different from any other player.” Hajime runs his tongue along the palm of Tōru’s hand and listens to him suck in a deep breath. “It hurt. It hurt a lot. I thought you were always the selfish one, but I was wrong. I wanted your tosses, wanted your hands, all to myself.” 

Tōru’s breath hitches.

Hajime continues, letting his hands move up higher up on his body towards his arms. “I wanted all of you. I wanted to feel your hands on me, wanted to know what it felt like to be caged in by your arms.” He kisses Tōru’s pale skin gently as he goes, moving up his arm. “Somehow, even with those serves, your arms never became bulky. They were always the right medium between strong and yet lean. I was so jealous of that too. That you had such perfect arms …” He can feel the hair as it rises on Tōru’s arms as he speaks, reacting to his voice. He’s stopped crying, but he doesn’t dare mention it. 

“The girls would talk about you so much, I’d get jealous. Whenever you play they still talk about you. I’d hate it when you were late for practice cause the girls would ambush you. Do you know how many girls asked me to give you their confession? I threw them all in the garbage. Kinda felt bad about it too.” 

Hajime moves to Tōru’s shoulder and he pulls at the collar of his shirt so that he can kiss his shoulder blade. “I used to fantasize about your skin, your neck. I used to imagine what sounds you’d make if I could just get you alone for five minutes, _just five_ , and do whatever I wanted with you.”

“I would’ve let you,” says Tōru. “God I would’ve let you, for however long you wanted.”

Hajime presses a kiss to Tōru’s neck and notices the way he almost recoils into himself, but he knows this isn’t self-doubt. This is a reflex of sensitivity. Hajime breathes on his skin and tries to hold in a giggle as Tōru tries to push him back so he doesn’t kick him in his involuntary fit of laughter. Him, giggle. He’s thirty-five, you’d think he’d be above giggling.

“That’s good to know,” whispers Hajime. He lets his hands move upwards to brush Tōru’s neck, caressing him gently. “I wanted to mark you,” Hajime admits and he’s so glad that the only response he gets from Tōru is a deep sigh. He’s not sure how he’d respond if Tōru made a joke about him being similar to a dog. “I know they say hickeys go out of fashion, but it would’ve been nice. To know that everyone could see you were taken, knew that you were _mine_. They used to call me ‘Oikawa’s ace’. I really liked that. You have _no idea_ how much I liked that.” His lips linger on Tōru’s collarbone and he pauses. 

“You know what else I didn’t like? I hated it when you called Matsukawa Matsuun, or Hanamaki Maki-chan. It was like “chan” wasn’t specially for me.” Hajime lets one of his hands drop, rubbing Tōru thigh gently. “You have no idea how insecure I was during school. Still am really.”

“But Iwa— Hajime,” Hajime can be a man and admit he stops breathing for a second. “You’re perfect.”

Hajime laughs softly. “When the only reason girls talk to you is so they can confess to your best friend, it does stuff to you.

"I thought it was only me, I was the weird one, with all sorts of weird feelings for another boy.” Hajime can feel himself starting to shake, but he’s doing this for Tōru and if digging deep into his insecurities is what it takes, he’ll do anything. “I thought about how, even if you were by any chance, into guys, there was no way you’d go for me. I’m your opposite, dark where you’re light, serious where you’re goofy, always frowning while you can keep smiling—”

“You know those are fake—”

“Still, you could do it. You’ve always been … other-worldly to me.”

Hajime lets his hand linger on the zipper of Tōru’s pants, stroking him gently through the fabric. He can feel him reacting, can hear his soft gasps. “You were always loud where I was quiet. Someone like you … it was a miracle you were my friend. I don’t think I ever told you how much that meant to me, that you wouldn’t let me go, wouldn’t let me distance myself from you.”

“Hajime,” says Tōru, his cheeks turning red. The remains of the tears are visible on his eyelashes, long and gorgeous like the rest of him. “I—”

“I used to feel bad about it. About thinking about you that way,” Hajime whispers, cutting him off. He can see that Tōru’s on the brink of crying again and Hajime doesn’t want to be the reason for his tears. “I’d imagine some of the most innocent things, like holding hands on the way back from school, or you leaning on my shoulder while watching a movie. 

“Sometimes it was indecent. I used to touch myself, imagining it was you. I would listen to you when you practiced and imagined your sighs and gasps of breath in a different context. 

“Do you remember when we were in our second year and you spilt juice on yourself while you were having dinner over at my house? I lent you one of my shirts and when you slept over that night I imagined you were wearing my clothes after we had just had sex.” 

Hajime can hear Tōru in his mind teasing him, saying “so dirty, Iwa-chan!” but this Tōru doesn’t do anything, underneath his fingers his head leans back and he looks like a mess, a puddle of himself. 

Hajime lifts his hands to Tōru’s shirt and fingers the hem of it.

Almost instantly, Tōru freezes. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t recoil, but it’s obvious he’s uncomfortable.

“Do you know what your body did to me? _Still_ does to me?” asks Hajime in a low voice, whispering into Tōru’s ear. He pushes his shirt up slightly and notices the way Tōru sucks in a breath. He can’t think he’s fat, can he? Hajime presses a kiss to his stomach. He doesn’t pull the shirt over Tōru’s head, he knows he shouldn’t, but with the valley of pale skin for him to see, how can he resist touching? “Do you know how hard it was for me to be in the locker room? I remember at training camp you jerked off in the shower once. I wanted to join you. Wanted to feel you against me.” 

“I was thinking about you,” says Tōru softly. 

Hajime looks up at him and finds his voice caught in his throat. “What?”

“Every time,” says Tōru. “I … it was always you.” Tōru’s eyes follow Hajime’s arm to his stomach and slowly, he breathes out again. “I would think about you all the time. Still do.”

Hajime kisses him then, square on the mouth and swallows Tōru’s gasp with his own lips. 

He loves his taste.

Tōru holds onto Hajime by his shoulders. He’s still fairly curled in, but he’s pulling him closer. One hand is now on the slope of his neck, the other on his cheek, he’s tilting his head and he tastes so amazing.

When they separate to breathe, Hajime whispers, “She had your name.”

“What?”

“My girlfriend. Her name was Tohru.” 

It feels so good to say it and get it off his chest.

Tōru stares at him, speechless. “She …”

Hajime is sure he’s turning red. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“Mine was a lesbian.”

Hajime blinks. Okay. Not what he was expecting. “I thought—”

“It was a cover,” says Tōru. “I just knew that I started to look strange, captain, third year, decent looking without a girlfriend? That’s just too weird and she needed to convince her parents she was straight so we just kinda … fell into place. I couldn’t do it anymore after three weeks though.”

Hajime rests his head against Tōru’s shoulder. “Shittykawa … you put me through _hell_.”

Tōru gives him a small smile and now Hajime feels like crying and he’s not sure if it’s because of miscommunication and wasted years or if it’s because he’s just so fucking glad that she didn’t mean a thing to him.  “Sorry,—”

“Don't apologize,” says Hajime softly. “It’s over now.” He kisses him gently and they both sink into the mattress. Their eyes meet, green to caramel brown and he’s asking him silently for permission. Tōru nods slightly and then Hajime’s fingers are slowly unbuttoning his shirt again. He’s careful to watch the other man’s reactions, watches as he resists the urge to curl into himself, sees how he bites his lip as if to try and keep his voice in. Why, he doesn’t know why.

“Tōru … have you ever done this before?”

“Yeah …” Tōru turns red and looks away from him. “I wasn’t … it was bad.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do!” 

Hajime’s eyes widen at the sudden rise in volume.

Tōru shakes his head and he’s crying again, but to be honest, Hajime isn’t a hundred percent sure if the tears ever truly stopped. “It’s important to me … and I fucked up. I _always_ fuck up.”

Hajime lets him cry, silent, kissing him gently all the while, feeling his body tremor underneath his fingers, underneath his lips and waits until Tōru calms down.

“I … I wanted it to be you,” says Tōru, “I wasn’t thinking … I was drunk and upset and I just …” He shakes his head. “I just wanted you _so badly_ …”

“You have me right now,” says Hajime, pulling Tōru’s hand away from his face. “You’ll have for as long as you want.” He takes Tōru’s hand in his and spins the thin golden ring around his finger and grins. “Remember?”

“I’m sorry, I’m messing this up—”

“No, you’re not.” Hajime kisses him gently and pulls away. “We’re going to do this however you want, we’re going to do this like we do everything. Together, in sync and connected.” He grins. “Do you want me to—”

“No,” Tōru cuts him off. “I want it. I want you to make love to me, Hajime.”

Hajime’s lying if he says he doesn’t turn red at that.

“Asskawa, don’t say such embarrassing things.”

Tōru smiles and tugs at Hajime’s belt. “I think you’re a little over-dressed.” 

It takes Hajime’s breath away, to watch the way Tōru looks at his body. The setter takes off his former co-captain’s shirt slowly. It gets caught in Hajime’s hair and they both let out a light chuckle. 

“Are you nervous?”

“You always make me nervous.”

The usually steady setter’s fingers are trembling as they unbuckle Hajime’s belt. He tugs harshly, presumably to make the belt slip out quickly and easily, but it gets caught and Hajime teeters forward from the sudden imbalance of weight. He holds out his arms to stop himself from falling on Tōru who is blushing, starting at his cheeks and then disappearing into the collar of his shirt.

“Sorry—”

“What did I say? No apologies,” Hajime kisses him gently. It’s lazy and comfortable and everything he’s ever wanted and he still can’t believe it’s all _his_.

“I uh …. I don’t have any …” Tōru turns red before he can even get the word out and it’s adorable.

“We’ll make it work,” whispers Hajime, kissing him on the forehead.

“I …”

“We’ll take it slow.”

“But—”

“We have all the time in the world.”

Hajime tugs at Tōru’s pants. The brunet turns his head away as Hajime pops the buttons. He slides them down his legs, kissing his thighs as he goes. 

“Do you know how much you made me worry?” he asks softly, kissing Tōru’s kneecap. “This pesky knee … It’s caused me so many sleepless nights for you. Watching you fall … you can’t do that to me again.” He lifts his leg up and runs his tongue along his skin, tasting it. The skin’s a bit rough and Tōru hasn’t shaved his legs in a while and yet Hajime treats every patch of skin as though it’s a treasure.

Tōru kicks off his pants the rest of the way, knocking Hajime gently in the chin.

“Shit, I—” Tōru sees the look in Hajime’s eyes and swallows the rest of his apology.

Oikawa Tōru really is beautiful.

“Don’t … don’t stare at me like that. It’s embarrassing.”

But how can he not? 

Hajime drops to his knees, and his hands run over Tōru’s skin, feeling the warmth beneath his fingertips. It’s like electric currents are jamming up his system. His fingers play with the elastic of his boxers. 

“Can I touch you?”

Tōru covers his face with his arm, but he's nodding and it’s adorable.

The ex-ace’s fingers slip underneath the material, taking Tōru into his hand. He starts slow, watching every reaction of his beautiful lover. He’s changed his position so that he’s blocking his mouth with his hand and Hajime can see that he’s biting on his fingers. with his other hand, Hajime reaches out and pulls Tōru’s hand away.

“Have to take care of your hands, Setter.”

Tōru lets out a light chuckle and drops his hand. 

“Let me take care of you.”

He’s slow as he lowers his mouth down and watches, keeping eye contact as Tōru turns redder and redder, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to keep quiet. Hajime wonders how many others got to see him this way, but then he pushes that thought aside because he doesn’t have to worry about any past rivals, right now Tōru is _his_. And he’s always going to be his. 

“Ah …” Tōru’s hips thrust upwards, but he looks away. He’s enjoying it, it’s obvious on his face, but Hajime can also tell that Tōru has never been so embarrassed in his life.

Hajime keeps going, slow and gentle, stroking what can’t fit in his mouth. He holds onto Tōru’s hips with his other hand because he knows that Tōru can’t control himself and he’s having trouble trying not to thrust into Hajime’s mouth. His jaw hurts, but he keeps going because he’s never seen Tōru like this before and even though he knows they have all the time in the world, he wants to memorize this, wants to know it, because it’s never going to be like this again, never going to be a first like this ever again.

He hears Tōru’s whimper, he’s so close and Hajime wants it, he really does want it, he wants to taste him on his tongue after so many years of waiting, so many years of yearning, of never knowing if he could ever experience this but now they have all the time in the world so Hajime pulls his mouth off and kisses Tōru softly.

“You like that?” he asks gently.

Tōru can’t speak, instead he nods.

Hajime places his hands on Tōru’s thighs. “How do you want to do this? Do you want me inside you? Or do you want to be inside of me?”

“You’d … you’d let me do that?” asks Tōru in a small voice.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“But I …” Tōru shakes his head. “I thought—”

“We can do this however you want,” says Hajime. “As many times as you want. So … how do you want us to do it first?”

“You can top.”

There’s something fierce in Tōru’s eyes, like he’s commanding Hajime to do this with him, like he’s captain again and Hajime is his ace and they’re going to do this, no matter what, and it might be a crazy move, but it’ll be amazing.

God, Hajime loves it when he gets like that.

“I …” Tōru blinks and Hajime can tell he’s holding back tears. “I can’t give you my first like … _that_ , but I can give you—”

“This isn’t some sort of balance,” says Hajime. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I want to,” says Tōru. “Is it … Is it disgusting that I want to do it like that with you?”

Hajime shakes his head.

 _Goddammit Tōru, you’re going to make me cry_. 

“Nothing you could ever do can disgust me.” He kisses him gently and tastes the bitterness of his tears on his lips. Slowly, he pulls away. “We’re doing this your way, okay?”

Tōru nods. He looks like he’s ready to hyperventilate. 

“Look at me,” says Hajime. “Just look straight at me.”

Tōru does and his brown eyes have never looked more beautiful. He holds his face in his hands, feels his smooth skin underneath his fingers and he knows he’s going to cry, but he’s pretty sure it’s just because he’s so happy and he can’t handle it. 

“You don’t owe me a thing, we’re going to do this the way you want, and I’m going to blow your fucking mind.”

“So crude, Iwa-chan,” Tōru says, but he’s smiling through his tears.

He kisses him softly and then goes back down his body. 

Tōru’s eyes widen as he realizes what Hajime plans to do, but he doesn’t stop him when his lips press against his entrance. Rather, he shuts his eyes tightly and reaches out, grabbing him by his hair but there’s no hint of violence in the act. It’s not controlling, more like he’s grounding him. Tōru’s legs press together on instinct, but Hajime keeps them apart. Tōru’s slow as his hands ruffle Hajime’s hair, like he’s finally realized they have all the time in the world.

The sounds he makes … Hajime can barely control himself when he hears them.

Tōru isn’t loud, but that may be because he’s muffling himself. It’s soft gasps and sudden intakes of breath and his fingers in his hair make him crazy. 

When he pulls away, Tōru is staring at him like he can’t believe what’s happening. 

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tōru breathes. “Better than fine.”

Hajime chuckles.

“I’m going to put one in, okay?”

Tōru nods.

“It’s going to hurt.”

“I can handle it.”

“You’re such a brat, Trashkawa.”

Hajime is careful when he pushes in his finger, only to the first knuckle. He watched Tōru closely, watches his sudden in-take of breath. He’s clutching the sides of the mattress without much to hold on to because they really didn’t plan this, did they? But Hajime wouldn’t change it for anything. It’s perfect this way. 

“Breathe,” he says gently.

Tōru nods, but he’s shaking. His body is trembling.

“Do you want us to wait? We can stop—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Hajime chuckles softly. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

It takes a few more seconds, but then Tōru exhales and nods. 

Hajime pushes in a little more and watches each of Tōru’s reactions. His eyes have shut tightly, and he’s frowning. His arousal is waning.

“Does it hurt?”

“A bit. It’s more uncomfortable. It feels … weird.”

“I can—”

“What did I tell you?”

Hajime pushes his finger in all the way and watches the way Tōru’s breathing quickens.

“Kiss me.”

“You’re very demanding,” Hajime teases.

“Shut up and kiss me, Hajime.”

He does.

He strokes him gently as their lips move against each other, and then Tōru is pulling away, giggling. 

“You have stubble, Iwa-chan! It tickles!”

Hajime grins.

He goes in to kiss him again. Tōru’s insides are warm and heated, and he can feel them clenching around his finger, so he pulls it out slowly before pushing it back in. The kiss does nothing to distract the setter. Hajime swallows his gasp, and begins to work his finger inside him slowly. 

“I’m not going to break, Iwa-chan,” says Tōru.

“Idiot, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be aggressive.”

Tōru is about to make a remark, but it gets caught in his throat. A moan escapes him. 

Hajime grins. “Got it.”

Tōru’s eyes are shut tightly and his thighs wrap around Hajime like a cocoon. The ex-ace is sure this man will be the death of him. It’s a death he’ll take in stride.

Tōru’s body is so _hot_ and _tight_ and it’s overwhelming, but he tries to keep his cool because it’s their first time together and Hajime wasn’t even sure if this was ever going to happen. He knows it doesn’t have to be perfect, but he wants it to be as good as it can be because he’s been waiting forever for this moment and he wants Tōru to remember this moment as vividly as Hajime knows he will. He’ll be going to sleep tonight with the image of Tōru laid out on his back for him burned to the backs of his eyelids and his soft moans lulling him to dreamland. 

Hajime’s got three fingers in him when Tōru pushes back against him. He frames Hajime’s face with those delicate fingers of his, and pulls him closer. “Hajime … I want you,” he gasps, arching into his touch. “In me … I want you inside me …”

Hajime kisses him softly and pulls out his fingers. He wonders if Tōru notices how he’s trembling as he gets out of his pants and searches around his wallet for a condom. 

Tōru looks beautiful spread out on the bed that way, and though it’s cold because there’s no real light in the room or electricity and the box spring of the mattress is not comfortable in the least, it’s perfect. Because it’s them, and Hajime has never known wanting like this before.

When he finally puts the condom on, he pulls Tōru closer, and spreads his legs a little more. The setter is looking at him behind lidded eyes, and he’s so _beautiful_ , Hajime forgets to breathe for a moment.

“Nervous?” Tōru asks.

“Don’t make fun of me now—” 

Tōru reaches out and grabs Hajime’s hand in his own. He can feel the tremor. 

“Not making fun,” says the brunet. “Making sure I’m not the only one.”

Hajime doesn’t know how it’s possible, but he falls in love just a little bit more with the man in front of him.

“It’s going to hurt.”

“I know.”

“I … you can tell me to stop if it hurts too much.”

“I know.”

“You _have_ to tell me if it hurts,” Hajime says.

“I will.”

“Like when you told me you were fine after you fell from the tree in your backyard when we were ten?”

Tōru laughs. “You’re stalling. I can’t believe you still remember that.”

“I remember everything when it comes to you,” Hajime admits. “Don’t think you’re cool just cause it hurts and you tough it out. I really do want you to tell me if I hurt you,” he says. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“Liar.”

“Iwa-chan will take care of me.”

He pushes in slowly, watching Tōru’s reactions carefully. His eyes squeeze tightly, and he’s clenching from the intrusion. Hajime intertwines one of their hands together, and watches. Tōru looks breathtaking like this. He’s breathing harshly, like he’s forgotten how to.

“Okay,” Tōru hisses through his teeth. “Bigger than fingers.”

Hajime can’t help it. He laughs. Tõru joins him, but his is more nervous. “Want me to wait?”

Tōru nods. His grip is deadly, like he’s trying to crush all the bones in Hajime’s fingers. Hajime doesn’t mind. He loves the setter’s hands. He brings their joined hands together and kisses each knuckle slowly.

“Come on, Captain. You got this.”

Tōru’s eyes open, so warm, so full of love. “Not without the vice.” His breathing has evened out, and his grip loosens. “Okay. You can continue.”

Hajime is slow as he pushes in more, tries to keep himself from losing it, because Tōru is so tight and hot around him and it’s all _he’s ever wanted_ but he needs to be patient because Tōru deserves to be loved and cared for like he’s a prince. 

Tōru’s teeth start grinding together, and Hajime stops. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t pull out,” and there’s a hint of fear in his voice, as though he’s certain Hajime will stop.

“I wasn’t going to,” Hajime says. “There’s still some more to go, but we can stop here.”

“How much more?”

“A bit.”

“A bit. That’s useful.” Tōru’s flushed, his entire chest is a beautiful rose colour and his hair is falling into his eyes and Hajime’s heart forgets how to beat. “Hit it till it breaks. Isn’t that what I always say?”

“You want me to break your ass?”

Tōru laughs. “Maybe another time.” He takes his free arm and wraps it behind Hajime’s neck, pulling him closer. “This is good, for now.”

He can feel his breath on his face and he closes the distance as he pulls back, and then forward again. Tōru gasps, his arm tightening it’s hold.

“Careful,” Hajime teases, “don’t choke me just yet. We’ll save that for another day.”

Tōru blushes. 

Hajime starts to kiss him, his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids. He leaves his mouth alone so he can hear the quiet, almost cut-off sounds he makes. It’s wonderful, to hear him like this, to know _he’s_ the reason he’s like this.

Tōru pulls on him though, guiding him by the hair on the nape of his neck and pulls his lips down to his.

“Don’t tease me, Iwa-chan.”

Their bodies rock against each other and he’s hyperaware of everywhere their skin touch. These kisses are lazy, lips sliding against each other, just the sensation of the other’s skin enough to drive both crazy. He swallows the moans as they come out of his the man beneath him, let his fingers play with the hair he’s dreamed of.

“Hajime … Hajime I’m …” The words are caught in his throat, but Hajime gets it and he starts to move a little faster.

Their mouths are just hanging open now, sliding against each other and he can’t call it kissing but it still sets his veins on fire. He’s close, he can barely breathe, his sense are over-ridden by _Tōru_ and he can’t think straight. 

And then he’s over the edge and he forces his eyes to stay open because he has to see the look on that man’s face when he comes undone, has to etch it into his memory because he’s been wanting it since before he fully understood what he wanted.

When it’s over, they lay on the mattress, cold as all hell, Hajime wearing a stupid grin.

Tōru curls into him for warmth. He looks younger somehow.

Hajime brushes the hair away from his face, and sees the beginning of a grey hair.

Grey hair is a sign of good luck, it’s what his mother’s always told him.

He knows better than to think this is the last time Tōru will be unsure of himself and his appearance, but Hajime doesn’t mind. 

Oikawa Tōru has always been breathtaking to Iwaizumi Hajime.

He has his whole life to prove it to him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can talk to me on my Tumblr, if you want, just look up "setkia" and I'm there. I'm always down to talk about Haikyuu. I run a head canon blog, Push It Push It Headcanons, if you wanna check that out too.


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